[News] Haiti Before and After Aristide's Return

[Anti-Imperialist News]

Joyous Victory in a Bitter Time

Haiti Before and After Aristide's Return

By ROBERT ROTH
http://www.counterpunch.org/roth04112011.html

On April 4th, Haiti’s electoral council announced 
that, according to preliminary results, Michel 
Martelly had been selected Haiti’s new president. 
A kompa singer and long-time proponent of 
Jean-Claude Duvalier, Martelly worked with the 
dreaded FRAPH death squads that killed over 5000 
people in Haiti after the first coup against 
President Jean- Bertrand Aristide in 1991. 
Martelly supporters had announced they would 
“burn down the country” if he were not 
selected.   Only a small number of Haitians – 
around 20% by most estimates – voted in the 
elections, the smallest percentage in 60 years to 
participate in any presidential elections in  the 
Americas. Fanmi Lavalas, the party of Aristide 
and by far the most popular in Haiti, was banned 
from participation. Why should people vote? It 
was a “selection,” not an “election,” we were 
told over and over again. By the second round on 
March 20th, Haitians had to choose between 
Martelly or Mirlande Manigat, a right-wing member 
of Haiti’s tiny elite. One Haitian friend told 
us, “This is a choice between cholera and 
typhoid. You cannot make such a choice.”

Yet the bitter taste of the dismal elections 
could not diminish the joy of “the return.” As 
the plane carrying President Aristide and his 
family back from a 7-year forced exile in South 
Africa approached the Port-au-Prince airport on 
March 18th, there were about 50 of us in the 
inner courtyard of his home. A day before, we had 
watched quietly as dozens of Haitians 
methodically painted walls, swept the same floors 
over and over again to make sure they were 
spotless, and fixed any last remnant of the 
destruction that took place at this house after the coup on February 29, 2004.

We had heard that President Aristide (called 
Titid throughout Haiti) would arrive at  the 
airport around noon, but we had gone to the house 
earlier to avoid the crush. I had come with a 
dear friend, Pierre Labossiere, representing the 
work of the Haiti Action Committee. We were both 
honored and overwhelmed to be there.

Rumors spread via cell phone: “He’s at the 
airport, making a speech.” “The car is coming.” 
We heard a roar. “Lavalas” means “flash flood”: 
the flood of the poor, who can accomplish wonders 
when they feel their strength. Thousands were 
climbing over two sets of walls, rushing past 
security, engulfing the courtyard. Within 
minutes, the roofs and trees were filled. There 
was no room to move. Yet in the midst of total 
chaos, there was discipline and restraint. “Get 
off the roof,” someone shouted. “It’s Titid’s 
roof.” “Don’t damage the trees.” Then the singing 
and the chanting began. “We will not vote in the 
election. We have no candidate. Welcome back 
Titid. Welcome back  schools.  Welcome back 
hope.  Lavalas – we bend, but we do not break.”

I was standing next to a Haitian grass roots 
organizer and school director. Her school had 
been under attack since the coup, but she had 
persevered and kept up the work. She has been the 
heart of earthquake relief in her community. She 
had tears in her eyes. “I’ve been working in the 
movement since I was 15. I am so happy. So happy.”

We saw another friend, who had been imprisoned 
during the last terrible years of  Duvalier, and 
now lives in one of the internal refugee camps. 
We asked her, “Are you going into the house?” She 
said, “No, I can always see the President. It’s 
more important to hand out water to the people. They are so thirsty.”

I could only imagine the reaction of the U.S. 
State Department, which tried so hard to stop 
this moment. President Barack Obama had made a 
last-minute call to President Zuma of South 
Africa demanding that he prevent the return until 
after the new round of presidential elections. 
What did he think of this scene? Was he even watching?

Finally, it was possible for some of us to get in 
the house. The people outside stayed and stayed, 
pressed against the windows – and then left, but 
not until cleaning the courtyard, picking up what had been dropped.

  Mildred Aristide greeted us at the door. “Isn’t 
it beautiful out there?” she asked.

So many, in and outside of Haiti, had worked for 
this moment. Not because Aristide is a savior or 
can solve all the problems in Haiti. Not because 
his return will end cholera, or bring the 1.5 
million people out of those terrible earthquake 
camps. This was a basic issue of justice and 
self-determination. A democratically elected 
president had been illegally removed from office 
and banished from his homeland – and the majority 
of Haitians never accepted his removal. They wanted him home.

Why?  Under 
<http://www.haitisolidarity.net/downloads/We_Will_Not_Forget_2010.pdf>Lavalas 
administrations, more schools were built than in 
the entire history of Haiti. The government 
opened 20,000 adult literacy centers, 
prioritizing the education of women. Health 
clinics sprung up in remote rural areas. A 
powerful AIDS treatment and prevention program 
was launched. The hated military was disbanded. 
The minimum wage doubled. The tiny group of rich 
people who have run Haiti forever were actually 
asked to pay taxes – and, if they didn’t, their 
names were read over the radio. The Aristide 
administration demanded restitution from France 
for the $21.7 billion that France had extorted 
from Haiti as its price for Haiti’s abolition of 
slavery. With the first payment on this debt in 
1830, Haiti had to close its public school 
system. Aristide raised the issue forcefully in 
2003 and said that justice should be done.

Slowly, even as the Bush Administration blocked 
needed loans, financed an elite opposition, and 
organized paramilitary operations against the 
government, Aristide was fulfilling his promise 
to move the nation from “misery to poverty with 
dignity.” It was a start, but an historic one.

At the January 1, 2004 bicentennial celebrations 
of the Haitian Revolution, hundreds of thousands 
of Haitians filled Port-au-Prince with banners 
and flags celebrating the first black republic, 
the only nation to successfully break the bonds 
of slavery, raising five fingers to demand that 
Aristide be able to serve his full five-year 
term. They were poor, they were black, and they 
knew that the movement they had fought so hard to 
build was under frontal attack. As reported in 
Randall Robinson’s book, An Unbroken Agony, his 
wife, Hazel Robinson, looked out at the crowd and 
commented on the power of the scene to the OAS 
Ambassador sitting next to her.  “Well, he does 
not have the support of the real people,” the OAS 
official responded. “He has 80 to 90%, but they’re not the ones that matter.”

  For the U.S. government, these Haitians didn’t 
matter. Unable to manufacture an “uprising” 
against Aristide, the United States took direct 
action on February 29th, swooping in special 
operations forces and kidnapping – yes, that is 
the word Haitians use to describe what happened – 
the President and his wife Mildred, taking them 
on a long journey to the desolate French 
neo-colony of the Central African Republic. The long exile had begun.

Haiti solidarity activists denounced the coup. We 
demonstrated, educated, and  organized, 
attempting to counter the drumbeat of lies about 
Aristide, the myth of his “resignation,” the 
notion that “popular upheaval” had overthrown 
him. And we sent delegations to Haiti, to learn 
from grass roots organizers who were now under constant attack.

Visiting Haiti in late June of 2004, we watched 
as the United Nations force (MINUSTAH), headed by 
the government of Brazil, took over the military 
occupation of the country from the troops of the 
U.S., France and Canada. Now it was a 
multilateral operation, like Iraq, like 
Afghanistan – with the imprimatur of the United 
Nations. A “peacekeeping force,” we were told.

Yet the people we met said the UN soldiers were 
disrespectful and, at times, brutal – blue 
helmeted soldiers pointing guns. We saw hundreds 
of political prisoners locked up in overcrowded 
cells with no water. We talked to people whose 
houses had been burned in the Central Plateau. We 
saw schools that had been destroyed, clinics 
ransacked, the Medical School at the Aristide 
Foundation taken over by UN troops and 247 
medical students forced to flee their campus. And 
we saw demonstrations – small ones in such a 
dangerous time – demanding the release of political prisoners.

Father Gerard Jean-Juste, a legendary fighter for 
human rights in Haiti, was still there, feeding 
children at his church in St. Claire. He told us, 
“I receive many death threats. But I will not 
leave Haiti. I left under Duvalier, but they will 
not force me out again.” He would later be 
arrested and beaten in a church, and then 
imprisoned – released only after developing the 
leukemia that would lead to his death in 2009.

 From 2004-2006, MINUSTAH. in coordination with 
Haiti’s coup government, launched 
<http://haitiinformationproject.net/>search and 
destroy operations to root out Lavalas bases in 
Port-au-Prince and the surrounding areas. 
According to a study published in The Lancet, 
over 8000 deaths and 35,000 rapes (many thousands 
committed by security forces) occurred during this period.

  A delegation from the San Francisco Bay Area 
was in Haiti right after one of those raids. 350 
heavily armed 
<http://www.democracynow.org/2005/7/11/eyewitnesses_describe_massacre_by_un_troops>UN 
forces had attacked the pro- Lavalas shantytown 
of Cite Soleil. Sixty people were killed, houses 
were destroyed, and bullet holes were everywhere. 
The delegation took pictures, interviewed 
residents, and came home. They went directly to 
the offices of the The New York Times with all 
their documentation. But The Times would not take 
the story. The UN had told them it wasn’t true.

The presidential election of 2006 was held under 
foreign military occupation. When Rene Preval, 
who had been a Lavalas president after Aristide, 
entered the campaign, the base of Lavalas swept 
him into office. They believed that Preval would 
bring back Aristide, would free the political 
prisoners, and develop new economic and social initiatives for the poor.

Not much changed. Preval had developed strong 
ties to the United States and the UN. He had no 
interest in bringing back Aristide, and moved to 
deepen the structural adjustment programs 
(privatization of the telephone company, new 
contracts for elite import-export barons, reduced 
social investment) demanded by the international 
authorities and the Haitian elite. The price of 
rice and gas soared. There were more raids into 
Cite Soleil. The U.S. State Department proclaimed that Haiti was “more stable.”

When we returned to Haiti in 2007, many Lavalas 
organizers were through with Preval. They said it 
plainly: “He’s in the arms of the Americans, he 
does their bidding.” He had broken all 
communication with the base that elected him. 
Aristide had always talked to the people – and had always listened.

During our visit, we spent days with Lovinsky 
Pierre-Antoine, a psychologist, Lavalas leader 
and human rights activist. At a demonstration in 
front of UN headquarters, he spoke on a small 
bullhorn while French and U.S. military personnel 
took pictures of him and the other protestors. He 
called for a halt to privatization, an end to the 
UN occupation, and the return of President 
Aristide. Two weeks later, Lovinsky was kidnapped 
and disappeared. Preval said nothing. The UN was 
silent. There was no investigation.

By 2009, the Preval government had lost any 
legitimacy among the poor in Haiti. As the cost 
of food spiraled upward, thousands of Haitians 
marched on the Presidential Palace. “Food riots,” the press called them.

Then the earthquake hit. We saw the terrifying 
images of destruction, the 300,000 dead, the 
unbearable conditions in the camps, the courage 
and dignity with which Haitians faced the 
impossible. Haiti touched hearts around the 
world. But a devastating Haitian tragedy 
presented opportunity for others. NGO’s 
descended. Bill Clinton and George Bush announced 
a joint fund and visited the country. The U.S. 
took charge of the “reconstruction.”

Five months later, Haiti looked as if the quake 
had hit the day before. We met with people in two 
different camps. They spoke with urgency: “We 
have received no aid from the United Nations or 
the Red Cross since March.” “We need food.” “We 
need work.” “The NGO’s pay themselves and give us 
nothing.” “Preval does not care for us.” “Bill 
Clinton is not our president.” “Titid must come home.”

<http://www.aristidefoundationfordemocracy.org/>The 
Aristide Foundation, created in 1996 as a center 
for grass roots social, educational and economic 
development, was buzzing with activity. With no 
government or NGO assistance, the Foundation was 
doing what it could: setting up mobile health 
clinics and schools in the refugee camps, 
training mental health workers to provide “relief 
for the spirit.” Young educators and activists 
told us that their generation was “motivated,” 
that they would do anything for Haiti. Fifteen 
hundred people – three quarters of them women – 
packed into the Foundation’s main auditorium for 
a “Democratic Debate.” Women in and out of the 
Foundation had passed around a petition to Barack 
and Michelle Obama calling for Aristide’s return 
and, within days, 
<http://www.globalwomenstrike.net/content/sign-haitian-women%27s-petition-return-jean-bertrand-aristide-and-his-family>20,000 
women had signed it. 10,000 Haitians took to the 
streets in Port-au-Prince on July 15th, 
Aristide's birthday.  The time had come.

Now Aristide has returned, in defiance of the 
United States; brought home by his people and a 
determined 
<http://www.haitisolidarity.net/downloads/Miami%20Herald%20Ad%20Jan%202011.pdf>international 
campaign.

The task is daunting. Barred from elections, 
Lavalas has no representatives in the 
legislature, and will have no official power 
within the state. Partnering with the Haitian 
elite, the U.S. is setting up sweatshops in the 
Port-au-Prince area and preparing to dig up the 
country’s mineral wealth. Bill Clinton co-chairs 
an on-going Interim Haiti Recovery Commission, 
sitting on over $10 billion. U.S. AID pours money 
into U.S.-based NGO’s that pay more for staff 
than for projects. Thirteen thousand UN soldiers 
and police maintain a seemingly permanent foreign 
occupation. Cholera – introduced to Haiti by UN 
forces from Nepal – has spread. A Harvard/UCSF 
study now predicts 800,000 cases. Marrtelly plans 
to reestablish the military and sharpen the 
attack on Lavalas. And his compatriot, Duvalier, 
is there – a spectre haunting the country anew.

Still, the return means so much. The fundamental 
goal of coups and  counter-insurgency is to sever 
the connection between a popular movement and the 
people, to destroy even the belief that 
transformative social change is possible. At 
Aristide’s house, in the streets of 
Port-au-Prince, it was clear that the coup and 
occupation have not been able to do this. Fueled 
by a hard-won victory, grass roots organizers - 
who have never stopped their work - have already 
taken heart. There will be powerful initiatives 
in education and health care, and the steady 
incorporation of a new generation into a movement 
that has bent but not broken. And a trusted voice 
of the poor is now back, whatever may come.   In 
his speech at the airport, as he and his family 
re-touched Haitian soil, Aristide commented on 
the undemocratic and exclusionary elections. He 
focused on the need to include everyone in the 
life of the country: “Every Haitian without 
exception, because every person is a human being, 
so the vote of every person counts.”

Visiting friends and family in New York a short 
time after returning from Haiti, I had a chance 
to meet with Haitian community organizers in 
Brooklyn. I asked one woman, now an assistant 
teacher in a second grade class, why she had 
joined Lavalas. What struck her, she said, was 
Aristide’s slogan, “Tout Moun Se Moun.” She 
translated it as, “Every one, each person 
counts.” And she said, “I am filled with joy that he is back home.”

Robert Roth is an educator and co-founder of the 
Haiti Action Committee. He is also on the board 
of the Haiti Emergency Relief Fund.




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